


A Man in a Uniform

by SerotoninShift



Series: The Most Exciting Thing I'd Ever Known [10]
Category: Motorcity (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerotoninShift/pseuds/SerotoninShift
Summary: Mike is being a very insubordinate cadet. His commander is going to have to do something about his behavior.





	A Man in a Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning that this takes place a while after “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” and is a little more uuuuuuuuh… intense than previous installments, at least until the ending. Take a pass if that’s not your jam!
> 
> She said, see, "Third time this week you wore that old suit  
But I don't give a damn, you see?  
'Cause a man in a uniform do funny things to me."  
~Prince

Mike fiddles with his uniform, getting it straightened out. Barracks inspections are happening today, he’s got to look his best. He checks himself in the mirror, makes sure his shirt is tucked in, his jacket unwrinkled. Then, with a small smile, he pops the collar. He’s Kane’s golden boy, he can get away with a little individuality, right?

He’s just finished smoothing the rest of his uniform into place when there’s a crisp knock. Mike opens the door to a commander in full uniform. Even though he was expecting this, Mike’s still a little startled at the sight of him. The commander is tall, taller than Mike, thin and wiry. His long blond hair is tied back severely, definitely not regulation, but it doesn’t really matter, what with the way it highlights the sharp planes of his angular, freckled face. His back is ramrod-straight, arms behind his back in parade rest. The uniform… really shows off the contrast between his broad shoulders and his narrow waist, slim hips, and long legs. Mike swallows hard. The imperious expression on the commander’s face is kind of intimidating. This is a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.

“Cadet Chilton,” the commander says sharply. “Present yourself for inspection.”

“Yes, _ sir,” _Mike says quickly, saluting crisply and snapping to attention. The commander’s mouth twitches with just the ghost of a private smile. Then he comes past Mike into the room and surveys it, closing the door behind him. After a long moment he turns back to Mike where he’s pivoted to attention by the door, back to the wall, and looks him over exactingly. His eyes narrow.

“Cadet Chilton,” he says, “you’ve taken some liberties with your uniform.” He reaches out and tugs at Mike’s popped collar. “This manner of wearing your jacket is not _ regulation. _What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Mike says.

“Granted,” the commander says.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Mike says carefully, “your hair is not regulation either, sir.”

To his surprise, the commander’s mouth curls in a slow smile.

“Noticed that, did you?” he says. “Well, Chilton, I have certain _ privileges. _ Privileges I have _ earned. _ What have _ you _ done,” he gestures at Mike’s collar, “to earn _ this?” _

Mike straightens his back even further. “Kane’s been very impressed with my performance,” he says, and he can’t help sounding a little smug.

The commander takes a ground-eating step forward and suddenly he’s right in Mike’s space, looming over him, looking down at him with a decidedly _ un_impressed look on his face.

“Kane isn’t here right now,” he says. “The only person you have to concern yourself with impressing—” and suddenly he’s _ more _ in Mike’s space, he leans forward and smacks his hand into the wall by Mike’s head, trapping Mike between the wall and his lean frame—“is _ me. _Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Mike barks, dry-mouthed. The commander is close enough that he’s looking right down his aquiline nose at Mike and suddenly those sharp blue eyes widen a little.

“Cadet,” he says, “what is _ this?” _ He’s looking down the popped collar of Mike’s uniform jacket.

Uh oh.

“Nothing, sir!” Mike says quickly, and backs up as much as he can until his back is pressed against the wall. He hastily reaches up and fumbles his collar into its assigned place, buttoning the top button. But the commander’s eyes are narrow on him and Mike _ knows _it’s too late.

“Cadet Chilton,” the commander says severely, “your undershirt appears to be non-regulation. I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket.”

“Sir, is that really nessec…”

“Are you _ disobeying _ me, _ cadet?” _ the commander interrupts.

“Sir, no, sir, I’m just wondering if undershirt regulations are really…”

_ “Cadet!” _ the commander barks. “If you don’t like the regulations I’d be happy to expel you from the corps. Take. Off. Your. Jacket.”

Mike reluctantly starts taking his jacket off. He unzips it slowly, turns his back to the commander, and shuffles it down off his arms. Then he hangs it up neatly on the hook on the back of his door. He stands there for a moment with his back to the commander. But he knows he’s just delaying the inevitable.

“Turn around, cadet,” the commander says. “Let’s see what you’re so nervous about.”

Mike turns around, and the commander is treated to a full view of Mike’s t-shirt.

There’s a picture of Kane on the shirt. In normal circumstances that would be patriotic, but this isn’t a KaneCo shirt. It was clearly hand-painted by someone skilled at using an airbrush, and the image of Kane is a grotesque caricature, all sharp teeth and small, pig-like eyes. There’s a red circle around Kane’s head and a red slash through the circle, right across the middle of his face.

KANE SUX, proclaims the bottom of the shirt in bright neon graffiti letters.

The commander stares at this spectacle for a long moment, mouth twitching. If Mike didn’t know better he’d think the guy was suppressing a laugh. The commander raises his eyebrows.

“Cadet,” he says somewhat disbelievingly, “I don’t think I have to tell you that this is insubordination and disrespect to the _ highest _degree.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir!” Mike says stiffly. “All my other shirts were in the laundry, sir!”

The commander is _ definitely _suppressing, if not a laugh, at the very least a smile.

“That’s the sorriest excuse for an _ excuse _ I’ve ever heard,” he says. “This is not only _ non-regulation attire, _ it is blatantly _ subversive.” _ He sighs. “Cadet Chilton,” he continues in a world-weary tone, “you leave me only two options. Option one; I can report this up the chain and have you court-martialed in front of the entire corps. You’ll most likely be stripped of your rank. Or.” The commander pauses thoughtfully. “Option two; I can discipline you _ personally, _ right now, and word of this unfortunate incident never has to leave this room.”

“Sir,” Mike says hesitantly, “what does option two involve?”

The commander smiles slowly.

“Cadet,” he says, “surely you’re not as thick-skulled as you seem. I have you at my mercy at the moment, and I intend to _ enjoy _myself. I think you can put two and two together.”

Mike licks his lips. “Yes, sir,” he says, “I think I can.”

“Good. So what’s it going to be, Cadet?”

“I… I would prefer option two, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” And the commander steps forward into Mike’s space again, and without warning reaches down and roughly cups Mike’s crotch through his uniform pants. Mike huffs out a startled breath.

“You _ like _ this,” the commander says, groping him and clearly feeling how he’s already traitorously half-hard. “You insubordinate _ slut.”  
_

_ “Sir,” _Mike says, scandalized, but he can’t say anything else before the commander lets go of him and uses both hands to shove his offending shirt up under his armpits, exposing his chest. The commander thumbs at his nipples, then pinches them and twists lightly. Mike gasps.

“Are you going to be good?” the commander says, voice low and dangerous. He’s not letting go. Mike sucks a breath in through his teeth.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Mike says, and he can’t help sounding choked and eager. The commander lets go of his nipples, takes a step back.

“Pants off. Leave the shirt,” the commander says. “You want to wear that atrocity, then by god you’re going to wear it while I teach you a lesson.”

Mike bites his lip, hurries to obey, toeing his boots off and lining them up beside the door and then stripping off his pants, socks, and underwear in one motion. Then, not sure what else to do, he snaps back to attention. A hot flush creeps up his body as the commander eyes him. Mike’s dick is standing pretty much at attention as well, and the commander’s gaze lingers on it.

“You’re a fine specimen, Chilton,” the commander says. “Very fine indeed.” He smiles, a wicked smile that makes Mike’s heart pound harder in his chest. “I’m going to _ enjoy _ this,” he says, and lunges forward, fisting a hand in the shirt still clinging to Mike’s torso. He _ yanks, _ manhandling Mike a few steps across the room to his desk and slamming him up against it. The edge of the wood presses into the tops of Mike’s bare thighs as the commander leans over, reaches behind him, and with one arm sweeps everything off the desk. Manuals and schematics scatter across the floor. The commander grabs him with one hand under his armpit and one hand under his butt and just fucking _ lifts _him like he weighs nothing, depositing him on the edge of the desk. Mike reflexively wraps his legs around the commander’s waist, holding himself up, and the commander shoves him back until he’s wedged slumped down against the wall, ass hanging off the edge of the desk. The commander grabs one of his thighs in each hand and grinds into him, letting Mike feel the heat and hardness of his dick even through his uniform pants. He slides a hand down the back of Mike’s thigh, squeezes his asscheek, gropes his ass—and stops.

“Chilton, you filthy degenerate,” he says, fingers on the base of the buttplug Mike’s got in, “what is _ this?” _

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir!” Mike says. “I shouldn’t indulge myself, sir!”

“Having a little fun, were you?” the commander asks mockingly, and _ pushes _at the plug, making Mike gasp. “Cadet, every time I think I’ve found the depths of your insubordination, you manage to surprise me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with you, but this makes me think you’d love a taste of the real thing, you intractable brat.”

“Sir, I…” Whatever Mike’s about to say gets cut off with a moan as the commander pulls the plug slowly out and unceremoniously drops it on the floor.

“You’re going to take my dick, Chilton,” the commander says, “and you’re going to love every second of it, you _ animal.” _

“Oh _ god,” _ Mike says hoarsely, hands scrabbling to get purchase on the surface of the desk.

“And I’m not going to waste my time being _ careful _ with you, you reprobate. I’m assuming your _ extracurricular activities _ prepared you for this?” the commander asks, rearing back and unfastening his pants.

“Sir, yes, sir! I’m prepared to be disciplined, sir!”

“Good. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week,” the commander says, voice cold. “Every step you take is going to remind you of the _ consequences _ of disobedience.” He’s got his dick in his hand now and is slicking it up with lube—somehow he’s produced a packet of it from somewhere in his uniform. Then he squeezes more lube into the same slick hand and roughly pushes two fingers into Mike where he’s already open from the plug, working the lube into him.

“Hah!” Mike gasps, shuddering. “Oh god!”

“You’re about to regret your flagrant _ disrespect _ for the _ chain of command,” _ the commander says, pulling his fingers out, and before Mike can even brace himself, he lines himself up and _ shoves, _pushing himself halfway in in one motion.

Mike slams his head back against the wall. Fuck! He wasn’t quite as ready as he thought. All his nerves light up with contradictory signals; he wants it to stop, he wants _ more. _He makes a high-pitched noise that he’s not sure is a whine or a moan.

The commander snaps his fingers in Mike’s face. “Chilton, look at me,” he says. “I’m not interested in causing _ damage _ to an important KaneCo resource. Can you handle this?”

Mike takes a deep breath. The pain is already easing up as he gets used to it, turning into a more familiar burning ache, and, more than he wants the commander to stop, Mike wants to see how the commander looks when he loses his cool, wants to put a crack in that icy control.

“I can handle it, sir,” he says, and his voice sounds unfamiliar, choked and breathy. “Please.”

“Listen to you begging for it,” the commander says haughtily. “You want this. You want someone to take you in hand and make you shape up.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike says, and is gratified to hear his voice come out steadier. He tightens his legs a little around the commander’s waist. “If only there was someone here who could do that instead of standing around!”

The commander makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a growl. “I like you, Chilton,” he says. “You’ve got fire. That’s the way you want to play it? I appreciate a challenge.” And he pushes himself the rest of the way in, leans forward, and, supporting himself on one hand, lays the other hand over Mike’s throat.

Mike stiffens. The commander isn’t pressing down or anything, just letting his hand rest there lightly, but the implied threat sends a jolt of adrenaline through Mike’s body. The commander smiles lazily.

“You seem like the type who likes a little danger,” he says, and tightens his hand on Mike’s throat just the slightest bit as he starts thrusting his hips.

“Oh _ god,” _ Mike says again, even more fervently, as the commander’s dick rakes over his prostate.

“I’d like to make you come,” the commander says thoughtfully. To his credit, his voice is still pretty steady. “I want to watch you fall apart, make you scream for me. You think you deserve that, Chilton? You deserve to come on my dick?”

“Please, _ please,” _Mike pants out as the commander continues to thrust steadily into him, every motion sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. It still kind of hurts, but that edge is just making it better now, making everything sharper and more intense.

“Please _ what?” _the commander says harshly. Mike has to collect himself for a second before he figures out what the commander wants.

“Please, _ sir,” _Mike says, and the commander makes a tiny, cracked noise. Mike is finally getting to him. He presses the advantage.

“Please, sir, please,” he gasps out, “I’ll do anything you say, sir. _ Use _ me, I want you to _ take _ me, sir.”

The hand on his throat tightens another fraction.

“Shut your dirty mouth, cadet,” the commander says hoarsely, “until you come for me. Then I want to hear you scream.” And the commander takes his hand off Mike’s throat and wraps it around his dick instead.

Mike slams his head back into the wall again, for a different reason this time. He shudders helplessly as the commander pounds into him, jacking him off at the same time, fast and rough.

“Sir… yes… sir!” Mike gasps, and arches his back up off the desk, squeezes his legs around the commander’s waist, and comes _ hard, _ a shocking cataclysm of pleasure that hits him like a blow. He _ does _ scream; he can’t help it, it’s ripped out of him in a long, hoarse wail as he convulses, splattering his own stomach and chest.

“Cadet,” the commander says, voice a little high and unsteady, “we might make something of you yet. I like the way you follow… _ orders…” _ On the last word he pulls out abruptly, pumps himself into his own fist a few times, and comes with a choked cry all over Mike’s stomach, adding to the rivulets already pooling in Mike’s navel.

Mike shivers, slumping into the wall, and lets himself drift in the aftershocks. He can relax now. He followed orders. He was good.

He comes to, just a little, to the feeling of a cloth mopping at his stomach, cleaning him up.

“Hey, dude,” says the commander’s voice, but lighter, less harsh. “You with me? You did so good, you’re incredible. Wow. Holy _ shit, _that was hot. You okay?”

“Hhhhh,” Mike says, not moving.

“Hey. Hey. Bro. Look at me.” The commander—_Chuck, _ this is _ Chuck—_is snapping his fingers in Mike’s face.

“Hnnn,” Mike complains.

“Don’t conk out on me yet, dude. I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”

“I… hff. Yeah. _ God _yeah.”

“You feel okay? You’re not too sore?”

“No, I… I’m gonna feel it, but… I _ like _ that. Reminds me.” Mike smiles hazily. “Reminds me I’m _ yours.” _

Chuck sucks in a breath.

“Okay, cool,” he says, slightly high-pitched. “C’mon, let’s get you to the bed.”

Mike lets Chuck get an arm around his shoulders and support him as he staggers up off the desk. “Y’r pretty good at that,” Mike says. “Orderin’ people around. Coulda… you coulda made commander, if y’d joined up.”

Chuck snorts, helping Mike across the room to the bed. “Mikey, there’s a difference between being a _ real _ commander and doing some _ acting,” _he says.

“Still,” Mike mumbles, as Chuck lays him down, “I bet you coulda.”

“Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Chuck says wryly, voice soft. “But we both know I’m only good at that stuff when it’s fake.”

Mike furrows his brow.

“Nnn,” he protests. “Y’r for real. Like when you got th’ Utilitons to rebuild that van with the lance n’ saved my butt. Or when you reprogrammed the Cabler’s whole… thing… on the fly… N’ how many times have you hacked Kane’s pod? You do that like i’s not even _ hard. _Y’r awesome.”

“Pffff,” Chuck says fondly. “You are _ so _out of it right now.” But he looks pleased. Mike smiles. Chuck pulls a blanket up over him, starts stripping off his commander’s uniform.

“Where’d you even _ get _that?” Mike says blearily. “I wasn’ expecting the real thing.”

“I have my sources,” Chuck says smugly, climbing into the bed next to Mike and cuddling up to him. Mike puts an arm around him.

“Julie got it for you, didn’t she,” Mike says, resigned. “Dude, she’s totally gonna know what you wanted it for.”

“Oh, like Dutch didn’t have any suspicions about why you wanted him to make you that t-shirt,” Chuck says primly. “Considering how _ loud _ you are, I’m surprised the entirety of _ Motorcity _doesn’t know what we get up to.”

Mike snorts. “Considering how many people have _ walked in _ on us, I think the entirety of Motorcity _ does _know.”

“Good,” Chuck says, and Mike gives him a slightly startled look. Chuck is looking up at him, a little fierce, a little shy.

“You’re mine,” he says. “I want everyone to know that.”

Mike swallows. “Wow, yeah, okay,” he says.

Chuck kisses him, a brush of lips to start with, and then again, gradually getting deeper, more intense, until he’s pinning Mike down, working his tongue in, licking at the roof of Mike’s mouth.

“Mmmnnn,” Mike says breathlessly when Chuck breaks the kiss, “geez, dude.” Chuck is still looking at him fiercely.

“I just love you,” Chuck says, and then ducks his head, turning red.

God, he’s so _ cute. _ The guy can pound Mike to within an inch of his life, and then get all _ shy _when he says stuff like that. Mike grins, reaching out and tilting Chuck’s chin up to kiss him gently.

“I love you too, you nerd,” Mike says, and kisses him again.

Mike always thought he had a problem with authority. That it was a flaw in him. But as it turns out, he just has a problem with the _ wrong kind _of authority. Chuck’s brand of authority, he likes just fine.

“I’m yours,” he says softly, and Chuck blushes harder and squeezes him, and they hold each other close, and they fit together, broken edges and all.


End file.
